What Else Is There?
by Caelia di Mekio
Summary: A darker telling of the movie, and a loving homage to Michelle Nicastro, a former Éponine. Full summary inside, Enjonine pairing.
1. Story Introduction, Skip if You Wish

_Once upon a time, there was a kind and generous king, who ruled one of three kingdoms that stood against the shadow of the Dark Empire. In a move against those who use the Forbidden Arts, Jean Valjean offers up his two adoptive daughters, Éponine and Cosette as brides for their allied princes. While Cosette is sent to live with Prince Marius, Éponine spends every summer in the land ruled by a more unwilling and uninterested monarch: Enjolras. The pair's initial loathing turns to love with the years, but when Enjolras can't find the words, it seems that the alliance won't come to pass._

_Eponine disappears on her return home, captured by Montparnasse, the sorcerer who holds the Dark Empire, and her biological father's protegé. He curses her to the form of a swan that can only be broken by the one who loves her._

_Now, Enjolras and Éponine must find not only each other, but the strength to save themselves and prove their love to the world._


	2. This Is My Idea

"Girls!" The voice of Jean Valjean echoed through the corridor of the Palais Montreuil given to his two daughters. "Girls, come here." There was a loud banging as Éponine shot out of her room like an arrow from a bow, her almost black hair flying behind her, and her bare feet thudding against the floor. Behind her, Cosette slipped out of her own room, every inch her sister's opposite, with fair skin and hair, her dress neat and her feet tucked into matching slippers.

"Éponine, slow down!" Musichetta hurried out after them. "Princesses aren't supposed to run!"

Éponine scoffed as she skidded to a halt in front of Valjean. "Cosette can be the proper princess, Chetta. I like running."

"Well, you're going to have to learn how to behave for this summer, Éponine," Valjean warned, taking her hand and leading her into the playroom, with Cosette following them quietly. The two girls sat on the floor as Valjean settled into the largest of the chairs.

"What's happening this summer, Papa?" Cosette asked.

"You remember the story about how I found the two of you, don't you?"

"In the woods, after you defeated a pair of evil sorcerers!" Éponine doubled her fists eagerly.

"And since then, we're one of the three lands that still stands against the Dark Empire," Cosette murmured, looking over her shoulder fearfully, as if the mention of the empire were enough to bring it to them. Valjean bent down to kiss her forehead as Éponine rolled her eyes.

"You're both right. And those other two lands are what I wanted to speak with you about. Gorbeau is ruled by Gillenormand. He plans to abdicate when his grandson comes of age. The Musain is currently run by the Lord Regent, Mabeuf, for their Crown Prince."

"What has this got to do with this summer?" Éponine asked, crossing her arms.

"After the two of you came into my life, I met with Mabeuf and Gillenormand to talk about an alliance. A way for our three kingdoms to stand against the Empire."

"Like what, Papa?"

"How else are alliances made, Cosette?" Éponine asked angrily, stamping her feet under her skirts. "Getting married. Papa, how could you do something like this to us?"

"Éponine, it's not happening this summer, don't be ridiculous! We're simply traveling to the Musain for a few months, so you can get to know Enjolras."

"He's the prince of the Musain?" Cosette asked quietly. "What about the one from Gorbeau?"

"Gillenormand has his grandson in a private boys' school, to better integrate him with their subjects."

"He sounds like a prat," Éponine muttered.

"Éponine, don't be rude."

* * *

"They're forcing me to marry one of them!" Enjolras flung a stray arrow at the wall.

"They are not." Combeferre said, picking up the fallen projectile delicately. "If you'd listen to Monsieur Mabeuf, Enjolras, you'd know that this is about promoting friendships between the kingdoms. You don't have to marry one of the princesses if you don't take to either of them."

"By all accounts, they seem likable enough," Courfeyrac remarked from the window. "My father—"

"Here we go again, 'my father, ambassador to Montreuil,'" Grantaire mocked. "Why bother, Courfeyrac? Enjolras has already made his decision."

"He has eleven years to make a decision, there's no need to be rash," Combeferre brushed his titian hair away from his face. "Feuilly, let me see your coat again."

"Why's it matter?" Feuilly asked. "I'm just—"

"I'll make you the mayor of a town when I'm old enough," Enjolras muttered. "Along with abolishing the monarchy, and instating a system where people are elected to hold power, and then I'm going to—"

"Get yourself cleaned up." All the boys looked over to see Monsieur Mabeuf standing in the door of their rooms. "Jehan, put the pen and paper away. Grantaire, change into more presentable clothes, and you," he turned to Enjolras, "you get that scowl off your face. The royal family of Montreuil will be here in moments, and you look as if you're getting your limbs hacked off."

"That'd be much more comfortable," Enjolras countered rudely, settling further into his bed.

"Enjolras, you are prince of the realm, whether you like it or not, and you have a responsibility to greet your guests. Get up and follow me outside to greet His Majesty and the princesses. Now."

"This is tyranny," Enjolras grumbled, reluctantly swinging himself off the bed and trudging after his guardian. His friends quickly followed him.

"Do you think either of them will like poetry?" Jehan asked, stuffing his spare parchment and quill into his pocket. "I could do with the practice of writing for ladies."

"I'm sure one of them will," Combeferre promised. "We could all do with some friends outside our own band."

"From what Father's told me, Princess Cosette is a very sweet girl, she'd probably love to hear your poems, Jehan," Courfeyrac predicted.

"And the other one?" Feuilly chimed in. "What about her?"

"Princess Éponine is... Spirited, my father says. Look, there they are now." A procession was coming into view, led by three horses of clearly superior breeding: A large black stallion, ridden by the king, and two ponies. On the left was a white one, where a fair haired girl rode sidesaddle, her eyes lowered shyly. On the right, a tanned girl had her legs straddled across a deep auburn mount, and was staring straight ahead.

Mabeuf stepped forward and bowed graciously. "It's been a long time, my friend."

"Indeed it has." Valjean dismounted and hurried to embrace him. "And which of these fine young lads is Enjolras?" Enjolras grimaced to his friends, and then stepped forward reluctantly. "You're the spitting image of your father."

"Thank you, sir." Enjolras said stiffly.

"Is that all you have to say?" the tanned girl asked, tossing her dark hair. "Fine way to greet us."

"Éponine, don't be rude," the pale blonde, who must have been Cosette, whispered, holding out her arms as her father lifted her off the pony. "Pleased to meet you, Prince Enjolras." She curtsied as soon as her feet touched the ground. Éponine unceremoniously swung her right leg over the saddle and slid off, landing solidly on the ground with a distinctly unladylike grunt.

"Just Enjolras, please," Enjolras said, still staring at Éponine as he forced out the next part. "And I'm pleased to meet you as well, Princess Cosette." Éponine put her hands on her hips, giving him an expectant look. "And you, Princess Éponine. May I introduce my companions?" The other boys stepped forward and bowed slightly as Enjolras rattled off their names. "Combeferre, Feuilly, Jehan, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire." Éponine only nodded as Cosette curtsied to them.

"Perhaps the Princesses would care to see the grounds?" Courfeyrac offered his hand. "Would you allow me the honor, Princess Éponine?"

"Gladly." Éponine took his hand, making a face at Enjolras as she did. Enjolras stuck his tongue back out at her, and offered his arm to Cosette. _Two can play at this game, you little conceit_, he thought.

As the group of children made their way through the gardens, Éponine suddenly pulled away, snatching up one of the wooden swords the boys had left outside earlier. "En garde!" she yelled, brandishing the toy at them. Enjolras rolled his eyes. "You aren't going to fight me then?"

"I don't see the point in wasting my energy," he answered.

"I think you're scared," she taunted, clucking like a chicken. Grantaire snorted a little, and Enjolras felt his blood boil.

"You want a fight?" He dropped Cosette's hand and tackled Éponine, knocking her into the ground. As the two of them tussled, he overheard Courfeyrac talking loudly.

"I think your sister's taking quite a liking to our Enjolras, Princess. Am I wrong?"

"I couldn't say, she's like this with everyone," Cosette answered. "But they seem well matched."

* * *

_THREE YEARS LATER_

"Éponine, hurry up, you're going to be late!"

"Tell Father I'm not done washing my hair, and I haven't packed!" Éponine called over her shoulder. Cosette came into her room and placed a small hand on her shoulder. Éponine sighed dejectedly "I can't believe Gillenormand finally changed his mind, and then had the nerve to say he only wants one of us to come to Gorbeau. You're so lucky, Cosette."

"I'm sure you'll get your turn next summer." Cosette promised kindly. "Besides, it's been nine months. Maybe you and Enjolras will be a little more..."

"Eager to kill each other?" Éponine offered.

"I was going to say open minded. But must you dress like a boy?" Cosette tugged at the sleeves of the man's shirt Éponine was wearing.

"It's easier to keep up that way," replied Éponine. "You know what, forget my hair. I'll wear it up." She stuffed the tangled mass of brown waves into a wide brimmed cap and pointed to her trunk. "Can you throw some of my breeches and shirts in there?"

"Shouldn't you take at least one gown?"

"If you find one in my wardrobe, do let me know." Éponine retorted cheekily. Cosette sighed, acknowledging her sister's point.

* * *

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"What makes you think I care, Combeferre?" Enjolras fired another shot at the crudely drawn picture of Éponine pinned against the wall. The arrow landed between the picture's mismatched eyes.

"Bullseye!" Grantaire declared triumphantly. "Great shot."

"They're coming onto the castle grounds," Courfeyrac called from the window.

"Really?" Enjolras asked, setting down his bow and picking up his slingshot. "R, what've we got for ammunition?"

"Don't you dare. You could miss," Combeferre warned.

"You know I don't miss." Enjolras retorted, accepting a soaked washcloth from Grantaire and sticking it in the strap of the slingshot. "Ready, aim—"

"Wait!" Jehan stuck his head out the window. "I don't see Éponine. Just a little boy."

"You're joking." Enjolras squinted at the slim figure standing next to Valjean, and snorted. "That _is _Éponine. She's dressed up as a boy."

"You can't be serious!" Feuilly peered out next to Jehan. "What's she doing dressed like that?"

"How should I know?" Enjolras asked. "I still want to show her who's in control here."

"Distinctly undemocratic."

"Combeferre, if I take a vote, how many of you want me to shoot this at that conceited little brat? Hands?" Everyone's hand except Combeferre's went up. "Fair's fair. I'm doing it."

"She'll make you miserable for the rest of the summer."

"She's going to, anyway." Enjolras pointed out, releasing his grip on the washcloth. It shot down three floors, knocking Éponine's cap off her head.

"ENJOLRAS!" she screamed, running into the castle.

"Quick! Tree house!" Enjolras urged, running out of his room and along the corridors.

"This is insane!" Combeferre yelled, running after him with the other boys.

"ENJOLRAS!" Éponine yelled again. "GET BACK HERE, YOU HORRID BOY!"

"Faster!" Grantaire laughed as they wove their way through the halls, reaching one of the grand staircases. "You first, Enjolras!"

"Allons-y!" Enjolras jumped onto the banister, sliding down easily, the others behind him. "Tree house! Tree house!" They ran across the great hall and through the grounds, to their haven, scaling the ladder furiously. "Jehan, pull it up, make sure she can't get in!"

"You are so unfair!" Éponine yelled from the ground.

"We really don't care!" Enjolras yelled back.

"Oh, that's it!" She marched over to the wooden beam supporting the right half of the tree house.

"Wait, what's she doing?" Courfeyrac asked, looking out one of the windows. "Enjolras... Enjolras, she's—"

"EEEEEEYAAH!" Éponine screamed, kicking down the beam. The tree house rocked back and forth, tumbling down to the ground. As Enjolras and the others climbed out of the rubble, she was sitting on the ground, a smug smile on her face.

"I hate you," Enjolras growled.

"You brought it on yourself," she retorted. "You think this is my idea of fun? Because it isn't."

This continued all summer, and for another eight summers afterwards. The only things that changed were how Enjolras and Éponine went about terrorizing each other. When she was fourteen and he sixteen, she would flirt with everyone else, and beat him at cards excessively, while he took every opportunity to pretend he wasn't noticing, and then trying to scare her as she came around corners. And then, the winter when Éponine and Cosette turned sixteen came, and they finally met the Prince of Gorbeau.

* * *

"I'm a little scared," Cosette murmured, fiddling with the hem of her pink dress.

"You're nervous? Gillenormand clearly likes you, he's never invited me to come for the summer."

"Maybe because you've never behaved when you've visited the Musain," Cosette pointed out. "Besides, it's not Gillenormand we need to impress, it's his grandson."

"What's his name again?"

"I... don't remember."

"Well, isn't that just wonderful."

"Girls, come on!" Musichetta called from the hall. "The winter ball's about to start! Your father's going to get impatient!"

"We're coming!" Éponine promised. "We just need a minute! Cosette, where are the necklaces?"

"Here." Cosette held up a circular gold pendant with a carved ivory swan, and a simple gold lark. Éponine accepted the swan necklace and tucked it under her loose dark hair. "Be careful," Cosette warned. "It took us far too long to get it all smooth."

"I can't help that it's got a mind of its own, we've been trying since we were twelve to control my hair, remember?" Éponine took the lark necklace and put it around Cosette's neck. "There. You look wonderful."

"So do you. Let's go." The two girls made their way to the ballroom, walking gracefully into the crowds of people. As they entered, everyone in the room turned to applaud. Valjean hurried up the staircase to embrace both the girls before escorting them to an elderly man wearing a simple gold circlet, and a tall young man standing behind him. "Majesty," Cosette curtsied sweetly, and Éponine did the same, still staring at the young man. "It's lovely to see you again."

"My dear princess," Gillenormand kissed her cheek lightly, "it is not as lovely as you are." Cosette's cheeks turned the same color as her dress. "And this must be Princess Éponine."

"A pleasure to meet you, Majesty," Éponine said. "Thank you for taking care of my sister. I trust she wasn't any trouble."

"Oh, none at all. You, on the other hand, I've heard quite a bit about."

"You can't believe everything you hear." replied Éponine.

The young man ruffled his brown hair and cleared his throat. "Grandfather, I'm still here."

"I know you are, Marius. Go on, then, if you're going to be so impatient." Gillenormand shoved his grandson forward. "Behave yourself." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Marius bowed sheepishly. "Sorry about what he said, Princess Éponine. Grandfather takes the things he's heard from Enjolras a little too seriously."

"Oh, you know Enjolras?" Cosette asked. "I haven't seen him for eight years."

"I see him on most winter holidays," Marius explained. "He... doesn't have very many charitable things to say about your sister, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps we could talk elsewhere?" Éponine suggested. "Perhaps you'd like to see more of the palais?"

"Gladly." Marius offered both his arms. Éponine hooked her arm in the crook of his left arm, and Cosette placed her hand on his right as they set off down one of the main halls. "None of the people in these portraits seem to resemble you. Why is that?" Éponine saw her sister stiffen a little.

"The last ruler died with no heir when the Dark Empire took control of Toulon. Our father was then only a wealthy factory owner, but the people seemed to want him more than the nobles."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot how Montreuil has that system of picking its own monarchs if the reigning family dies out."

"Papa found us abandoned in the woods a few months later." Cosette whispered. "We don't know anything beyond that about who our parents were. Papa won't say."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Marius remarked.

"Papa is mother and father to both of us," Cosette reassured him, "and we love him dearly."

The three of them stood awkwardly for a minute before Marius spoke again. "This is quite the event."

"The Winter Ball is how Papa celebrates our birthdays," explained Cosette. Éponine stared at her sister in shock. Cosette was never this forward or open with anyone except for her and their father. "Since no one knows our real ones. Everyone in the kingdom is invited."

"Everyone?"

"Yes, everyone. Rich, poor, low born or high. It's my favorite event of the whole year."

"I can understand why."

"I… I think I might go… get some air…" Éponine let go of Marius's arm and hurried out to the nearest balcony, trying not to cry. They had it. Lucky, lucky Cosette had found true love at first sight with the kind of prince they'd dreamed about as little girls. She should've been happy for her sister. But all she could feel was a cold feeling clenching around her stomach. Now, more than ever, she was trapped with Enjolras. He was the only way to keep the stupid alliance plan. And she'd never hated the thought of him more in her life.

* * *

"Engaged?" Enjolras repeated. "Marius and Cosette?"

"Set for the coming autumn," Courfeyrac read off his father's letter. "They're taking the summer to let the people of Gorbeau meet their future queen, and for Cosette to renounce her claims to Montreuil."

"Which means I really don't have—"

"As I have been saying for _years_ now," Combeferre interrupted, "_no one is forcing you to marry her._ And I don't understand why you despise her so. She's actually not that bad."

"NOT THAT—"

"He has a point," Jehan interjected. "You've never given her a chance to be anything other than your enemy, Enjolras. Maybe if you had, you could've at least been friends."

"Jehan, you were fine with it when we were children. You all were."

"I wasn't," Combeferre muttered.

"My point is, what changed?"

"We grew up, Enjolras," Feuilly answered. "I'm becoming concerned that this hatred of Éponine is a hatred of women as a whole."

"I have more important things to do then get married, and even if I didn't, I could do better than her."

"Just… _try_." Combeferre muttered, pushing back his hair in frustration. "For this one last summer, _try _to treat Éponine like she's a guest, rather than an intruder. Please. If only to give us all some measure of peace. Then you can get back to your crusade of political reformations."

"Fine! Fine!" Enjolras grumbled, brushing at his sleeves angrily. "Just… give me a moment in the solar to yell in frustration. All right? Can I have that? Please?"

Combeferre sighed in defeat. "If you must. Come along, gentlemen, he appears to want privacy."

Enjolras slipped into the solar adjoining the main ballroom and slammed the door behind him, triggering someone to shriek. He whirled to see a young woman in a dark green dress bending down to retrieve a red leather bound book. "I'm sorry… I thought… I thought I was alone in here, and—" The girl looked up, revealing a familiar set of dimpled cheeks and dark eyes. "Éponine?" he asked, trying not to gawk. She didn't seem anything like the girl he'd grown up with. She looked too polished, too different, too… not Éponine.

"Enjolras?" She looked just as surprised as he felt. "Er… hello. You… you look well."

He lifted the book to examine it more closely. "_A History of Montreuil_? You've never read this before?"

"I'm a _princess_, Enjolras. The only things I ever learned in my history lessons were the names of the noble families and their genealogy. And it was so—"

"Boring?"

"Horribly so!" she nodded emphatically.

"How far along are you?" He gestured to the book.

"Chapter three," she answered. "The first war, the one that resulted in our constitution."

"I've always admired that constitution." Enjolras lifted the book out of her hands and thumbed to the page in question. "I'm planning to instate one here, with some modifications."

"What kind of modifications?"

"Eliminating the line of succession and having elections every time a monarch dies. As well as instating an assembly to balance the monarch's power."

"So, a democracy?"

"You're cleverer than I thought," Enjolras remarked. She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "It was meant as a compliment. I'm impressed."

They stood awkwardly for a moment as music started coming faintly from the halls. Éponine snorted a little. "They're such liars."

"Let me guess, your father said the dancing wouldn't start until we were both there?"

"Monsieur Mabeuf told you the same thing?" Éponine guessed.

"And he said the evening's festivities wouldn't end until we'd danced at least once." Enjolras said ruefully.

"Hmm." Éponine sat back down in her chair and started reading again. Enjolras leaned against the wall, watching her intently.

"It seems to me, as long as we're both under orders to dance, we could use the loophole in those orders. They said that we have to dance, they didn't say where." Éponine looked up at him, her face a mix of puzzlement and curiosity. "We could fulfill our obligation here, if you prefer. Away from everyone else."

"Are you asking me to dance?" she asked, tilting her head coyly.

"Yes, that is exactly what I am doing." Enjolras answered, bowing and offering her his hand. Éponine set her book down, rose, and swept him a curtsy.

"It would be my pleasure." She placed her hand in his, and he wrapped his free arm around her waist. As they began to move around the solar, Enjolras felt an odd sense of comfort entering him.

"So, your sister and Marius are engaged now?" he asked, trying to make conversation. Éponine chewed her lip, exhaling with a slight amount of irritation. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just… well, Marius was… I liked him. Quite a lot, in fact."

"More than you like me."

"You've never given me the chance to like you," she argued coolly.

"Did you give me the chance to like you?" he countered. She didn't answer. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for how I've behaved towards you."

"Really?" she asked incredulously. "What brought this on?"

"This is our last summer together, and we're going to be allies, one way or another. There's evil out there, Éponine, and if we want to fight it, we're going to have to put our differences aside and start trying to be friends at least."

"No more hiding spiders in my room?"

"No."

"No popping out of corners and scaring me, or firing wet projectiles?"

"None at all," he promised. "Is that agreeable? Friends?"

"Friends," she repeated, as if savoring the word. "Yes, I think so. And I'm sorry for how I acted too. We really didn't have a very good start, did we?"

"No, we didn't." They were both quiet for a few minutes, Éponine's face becoming more sullen as they danced, and Enjolras felt himself wanting to make her smile. He released his grip on her hand, slid it to her waist, and picked her up, spinning around in a circle.

"Oh!" Éponine squealed as he did so.

"Sorry," he said, setting her down. "I just… didn't like seeing you with that expression on your face."

"Hmm." She stopped moving.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Éponine." He reached up and lifted her chin so they were looking into each other's eyes. "Tell me. Please."

"It's just… I wanted so badly for Marius to like me. I wanted what Cosette got… true love, happiness, and…" She trailed off. "Please, let's not talk about it." They stood silently for what felt like an eternity, and then, something happened. Enjolras wrapped one of his hands around Éponine's neck, his fingers sinking into her hair and pulled her close, letting his lips brush hers. Her lips were stiff for a moment, but then responded with ease as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.


	3. Swan Lake

As Éponine pulled away from Enjolras, she realized they were no longer alone in the salon. Both her father and Monsieur Mabeuf, along with Enjolras' group were standing in the doorway, watching them appreciatively. Both Enjolras and Éponine blushed, but they remained holding hands. "I think we can say the alliance will not be a problem now?" Mabeuf asked, smiling fondly.

"I'm willing if Éponine is," Enjolras said, kissing her cheek. "More than willing."

"Éponine?" Valjean looked at his daughter expectantly, and Éponine looked down at her feet.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked.

"Tell me why," she said quietly.

"Why?" everyone repeated.

"Yes. Why?" she said, pointedly looking at Enjolras. He stared back at her blankly, and she felt her spirits drop a thousand miles. "I see. Excuse me, please." She dropped Enjolras's hand and pushed through the men at the door, hurrying down the hall.

"Éponine? Éponine, wait!" She heard Enjolras running after her and he grabbed her by the wrist. "What is it? What's wrong? I thought this was what you wanted, what else is there that I'm missing?"

"Figure it out yourself," she whispered. "Until then, I don't want to see you again."

"You can't mean that."

"I do, Enjolras. Please, let go of me."

"But—"

"Goodbye." She slipped her hand out of his grip and ran back to her suite, finally letting herself cry. She was packed within moments.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Valjean asked, coming up behind her.

"Please, Father, I just want to go home. I'll still honor the alliances, but I… Can we talk about this in the carriage?"

"If you insist."

They were on the way back to Montreuil a mere twenty minutes later, after a set of very stiff goodbyes, and Valjean wasted no time in questioning her. "Now, what happened back there? What did you want him to say?"

"You could ask Marius why he loves Cosette, and he could give you a thousand reasons. Probably more. Enjolras couldn't find one… I know most royal marriages are for politics and not love… but you let Cosette marry for love, and I wanted the same thing."

"Éponine—"

"Father, you and I both know Cosette is your favorite. And I don't blame you, she's always been the good one. But… is it so wrong for me to want to be happy?" Valjean opened his mouth to reply when the carriage suddenly came to a halt. "Father, what is it?"

"I don't know, but stay inside." He opened the left hand carriage door, and Éponine immediately poked her head out the opposite side. Standing in the middle of the road was a figure cloaked in black. The figure threw back his hood, revealing a boyishly pretty and pale set of features framed by dark eyebrows and hair. "It can't be," Valjean exhaled in horror. The man extended his arms and they blazed golden.

"Magic," Éponine whispered in amazement. "The Forbidden Arts."

"VALJEAN!" the man yelled. There was a flash of light and smoke, and Éponine watched as he transformed into a creature with the body of a wolf, the wings of a bat, and the eyes of a demon. The creature took flight towards them and Éponine pulled back in as its claws tore at the roof of the carriage.

"Papa!" she screamed as the claws slashed at her father. There was another blinding flash, and everything went black.

* * *

"Touché!" Grantaire's épée hit Enjolras in the chest. "Come on, Enjolras, where's your head?"

"Where do you think?" Jehan asked from the sidelines, looking up from his journal. "It's with Éponine."

"I'm honestly not going to let you live this down, Enjolras," Combeferre remarked. "She asks you why you want to marry her, and you can't tell her. You couldn't think of one reason. What on earth was going on in your head?"

"Combeferre, stop it." Enjolras slashed wildly at Grantaire. "I get it, all right? I ruined it."

"If you needed help charming her, you could have come to me earlier." Courfeyrac pointed out. "I've never met a young lady I couldn't charm—"

"I don't want to charm her, my affections are genuine," Enjolras interrupted. "I just… couldn't find the words to articulate it."

"Try now," Feuilly offered. "Try to tell us how you feel."

"I—" Enjolras was cut off by the door slamming open and an armored man collapsing on the ground. "That's the Montreuil captain…" Enjolras and Grantaire dropped their blades and hurried to the man's side, the rest of their friends close behind. "Monsieur! Monsieur, can you hear me? What happened?"

"We… were attacked. By… a great animal…" the captain gasped out.

"Combeferre, Feuilly, Jehan, take him to the physician. Grantaire, Courfeyrac, with me." Enjolras started for the stable, mounting his horse as fast as he could. "Go!" he urged, taking off into the rain. He rode furiously, not noticing the rain beating down on him, or the thunder roaring overhead, until he reached the wreckage of a carriage. "Éponine!" he yelled, dismounting and tearing open the door. The cab was empty, and in shambles, covered in claw marks.

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac called. "Come quickly!"

"What is it?" he turned to see Courfeyrac trying to help Valjean sit up. The old king's clothes were torn, his face was pale, and he was bleeding badly. "Monsieur… what happened? Who did this?"

"My… my girls…" Valjean held out a crumpled letter in his hand. "Please… give it…"

"We will," Courfeyrac promised. "But, Your Majesty, please, tell us what happened…"

"So fast… beyond anything Thénardier ever could have…not what it seems…" Valjean coughed violently. "I tried… I did…"

"What happened? Where's Éponine?" Enjolras demanded, trying not to lose his temper.

"Gone… taken… Forgive me…" Valjean closed his eyes and took one last shuddering breath, and then… nothing.

"He's dead," Grantaire whispered solemnly. He and Courfeyrac bowed their heads and Enjolras clenched his fists in frustration. Amidst the rain, he caught sight of something. Éponine's swan pendant. He bent down to pick it up, then straightened.

"Courfeyrac. Take his body and ride to Montreuil as quickly as you can. Grantaire, ride to Gorbeau. If Cosette hasn't relinquished her claim yet, make sure she doesn't. If she has, join Courfeyrac in Montreuil, work with the regent to see about getting me time to find Éponine."

"You're not going after her, are you?"

"I'm going back home, to see if the captain can tell us anything else." Enjolras explained, mounting his horse. "Can you do what I've asked?"

"Already gone." Grantaire, who hadn't even dismounted, spurred his own horse into a gallop, heading down the road towards Gorbeau. Enjolras turned back towards the Musain, going so fast he might have been flying.

* * *

Far away, through a dark forest, just over the border between the Dark Empire and Montreuil, lay the ruins of Swan Lake, the summer retreat of Toulon's old royal family, before their fall to the Empire. For decades, the lake had seen none of the swans for which it had been named, but on this night, one swan was gliding across the water's surface, under the shadow of a weeping willow. On the banks, two figures stood watching, the pale skinned man and a skinny, short girl with dull red hair, about fourteen years of age. The girl broke off a hunk of bread and tossed it toward the swan, who turned its head haughtily.

"You're being completely unreasonable," the man said sourly. "It's not as if it even lasts the whole night. Look, the moon's coming up." As the moon rose, casting its light on the swan, its wings began to glow, and the light swallowed it. A moment later, where the swan had been, Éponine stood in the shallows of the lake, glaring. "See? What did I tell you? Now, perhaps we could have a proper introduction."

"I don't want a proper anything from you. I want to go home."

"This is home. One of the many your father secured for us."

"You took me from my father."

"No, he didn't," the red-haired girl whispered.

"Azelma, shut up!" the man snarled. "There are a thousand girls who'd kill to be in your position, do you want me to replace you?"

"No." Azelma said, lowering her eyes sullenly. "Forgive me, Montparnasse."

"Just this once," Montparnasse warned, wagging a finger at her. Éponine stepped slowly, trying to get out of the water and away from her two captors. "I don't think so." Montparnasse said lazily, flicking his fingers. Éponine felt herself get jerked back like a puppet on a string and into his arms.

"Let go of me," she snarled, struggling against him. "I could have you killed for less."

"Éponine, my dear, I don't think you realize the situation here."

"I am not your dear anything."

"Maybe you should explain about Maman and Papa," Azelma said quietly.

"Well, it seems you do have a brain after all, Zelma."

"Stop being cruel to her and just tell me whatever it is you have to say," demanded Éponine. "Or let me go."

"Please," Montparnasse twisted his wrist, transforming two stones into chairs. "Sit." Éponine didn't move. "Or stand. I'm not particular. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Your father. Thénardier, the first ruler of the Dark Empire. Shame you never knew him, he was a superb sorcerer. Mastered all three of the Forbidden Arts. Still shocked me when Valjean got the drop on him here. I saw him get run through. Your mother, too. I did get out though. Even managed to get the spell book before it got too badly burnt."

"I'm going home."

"Suit yourself. But, I should warn you, when the moon sets, you turn back into a swan. And the lake's the only place you can turn human."

"Bastard!" She flung herself at him, trying to punch him, but he flicked his fingers and she fell backwards into the lake. "Just tell me what you want!"

"Well, there's two things I want." Montparnasse's eyes raked over her body hungrily. "Montreuil. And you."

"If you want Montreuil, why not just conquer it like you've conquered so many other countries?"

"Well, for one thing, there's the matter of that pesky constitution of yours. And the sheer loyalty your people have for you and those simpering idiots you've been calling your family."

"Watch how you speak about them. They're better people than you. They're going to find me."

"Oh, how sweet." Montparnasse chuckled, conjuring up a garish version of the crown Valjean had worn for state occasions and setting it on his head. "You think they're going to rescue you and break the spell?"

"Well, obviously. I don't plan on staying here, or helping you."

"See, there's one small problem with that." Montparnasse smirked at her. "I made that curse so that only one person could break it. Care to guess, or shall I just tell you?"

"You're going to tell me anyway, I'd rather not waste time." Éponine said coldly.

"Oh, very well, it's that stupid boy from the Musain," chuckled Montparnasse. "I have to say, you made it very easy for me when you fell in love with the one man who has no idea what a woman is like."

"Whereas you're an expert?"

"My dear Éponine, even if he did manage to find you, and kiss you, he couldn't prove it to the world if his life depended on it. All he really cares about is his politics and reforms. He probably doesn't even care."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Éponine screamed, kicking at the water furiously. Montparnasse smirked at her, rose, and turned on his heel, stalking towards the ruins of the castle, with Azelma scurrying after him. Only when she was alone did Éponine allow herself to sink down sobbing.


	4. Repetition

"Right, let's set up the range again." Enjolras set down his bow and wiped his sweaty blond hair off his equally sweaty brow.

"Are you insane?" Grantaire whined, dropping to the ground in a heap with Courfeyrac and Feuilly. "I couldn't take another step, let alone do the range again."

"I don't know what it is you're trying to do," Combeferre remarked from the sidelines, marking tallies in his notebook. "You do realize you attain your majority in four days, don't you? And you've spent the past three weeks on these ridiculous shooting ranges."

"I need to practice," Enjolras protested. "If I want to take down the Great Animal—"

"Oh, here we go." Courfeyrac pulled himself out from the bottom of the pile. "You don't honestly believe Éponine's still alive, do you? No one survived, Enjolras, not even the captain. If that thing got her—"

"Don't say it."

"Someone has to," Jehan said gently. Enjolras was usually loathe to turn his glare on the romantic, but the look he gave Jehan was venomous, and made the poet pull back meekly. Enjolras immediately felt a surge of guilt for snapping at his friend.

"I'm sorry… I just… I _have_ to believe she's alive." Enjolras pulled the swan necklace out from under his collar. "I just do."

"Do you have any idea," Grantaire muttered, "of how _boring_ you've become? Where's our savage Antinous? Where's Orestes, hmm? Well?"

"R, please tell me you didn't do the shooting range drunk," begged Combeferre. "You could've killed something. Or someone."

"Is that not the point, my dear Combeferre?" Grantaire asked mockingly. "Enjolras wants to go vanquish the great beast, I say, what are we waiting for?"

"A day when you're sober?" Feuilly offered.

"You're all boring me. I'm for a coffeehouse. And perhaps a duel with whomever'll be fool enough take me on."

"I'll go with you," Courfeyrac offered. "I've an interest in seeing those lovely little blondes who were working there last week. Anyone else care to join me?"

"I'll go, but don't expect me to pay." Feuilly warned.

"As always, my dear Feuilly. Jehan?"

"I've nothing else planned." Jehan rose from the patch of grass where he was sitting.

"I must decline, Enjolras and I have a meeting with Monsieur Mabeuf," Combeferre announced.

"Damn, I forgot," Enjolras cursed. "Refresh my memory, what's it about?"

"Mainly the guests for the Grand Ball."

"No."

"Enjolras—"

"No."

"You're being irrational."

"You have a bizarre definition of irrational."

"I thought you'd finally accepted the idea that your marriage was to be a matter of state!"

"And I thought I made it clear, whether I choose to accept the throne or create a democracy, I will not do so without the woman I love."

Combeferre sighed heavily. "I know I cannot dissuade you from this, Enjolras, but you know we have little time. We got lucky in valjean having appointed Bishop Myriel as his prime minister, but they have to elect someone soon, and the Dark Empire may—"

"Montreuil will not fall," Enjolras interrupted confidently. "I won't let it. I'm not going to let her down. Never again." He turned his face to the horizon, where the sun was setting. "If you have ever believed anything, Combeferre, my friend, believe this: she _is_ alive, and I _will_ find her."

* * *

On the edge of Swan Lake, two very unlikely companions were sitting on the banks arguing.

"It's not going to work, Joly," the turtle warned the skinny green frog.

"Well, I'm not as pessimistic as you, Bahorel," the frog replied, twisting together another pair of reeds to the long staff he was fashioning. "If there's even a chance—"

"Of her being your true love? Joly, don't make me laugh."

"I have to try."

"Try what?"

"Éponine!" Joly dropped the reeds and surreptitiously kicked them into the moat, whacking the alligators that occupied it. "Ah… I…"

"Joly, you don't think you have cholera again, do you?" Éponine asked. "I told you, I don't think frogs can get it."

"It's not that…"

"He wants you to kiss him."

"Bahorel!" Joly smacked his friend on the shell, then grabbed at his digits, his face contorting in pain.

"Well, you do," Bahorel pointed out bluntly.

"Joly, if I could help you, I would, but I can't." Éponine coaxed. "You know that."

"Maybe Montparnasse was lying—"

"No, he wasn't. It's part of the rules of magic, he's honor-bound to reveal the proper cure," Bahorel interrupted. "At least the two of you have a chance of getting released. I'm stuck like this until the bastard dies."

"Oh, my poor Bahorel." Éponine sat down and put him in her lap. "None of us are ever getting released. No one knows this place exists. And besides, everyone probably thinks I'm dead."

"Then we're all in the same boat. Didn't Joly and I tell you about how we tried to start a revolution, and these were our punishments? Practice, Montparnasse called us. For you, I suppose."

"Now I feel even worse," moaned Éponine.

"You mustn't feel that way, it's not your fault," Joly said kindly. "All good people hate him, but most are too afraid to act against him. They fear his wrath."

"They were the wise ones," added Bahorel ruefully.

"And I'm the product of this awfulness."

"The sins of the parent do not transfer to the child, 'Ponine," Joly said, suddenly turning sage-like. "And besides, you never knew them, nor did they raise you. You're a good person."

"And a fat lot of good that's done me," Éponine declared.

"Surely you must have some faith in this Enjolras fellow. He does love you, doesn't he?"

"I… well… I think he does, but…" she sighed. "Bahorel, Montparnasse was right about one thing, Enjolras has no idea of how to say what he feels. Not when it comes to me."

"The loss is all his."

"Joly, you're not helping."

"Hush, both of you," Éponine lifted Bahorel off her lap and rose. "I hear something… AH!" She jumped in alarm as a rather queer looking bird landed at her feet, an arrow in its wing.

"What is it?" Joly asked fearfully, ducking behind Bahorel.

"I'm not sure… Bahorel, hold him down," Éponine dropped to her knees and ripped off a section of her skirt. Bahorel placed a leg on the unhurt wing. "Here we go." She snapped the arrow and pulled the half still embedded through the wing. The bird squawked as she wrapped the wing in the rag.

"Are you awake?" Joly asked, creeping closer and peering into the bird's face. "Hello?"

"BACK!" the bird yelled, shooting up like a firecracker. Éponine shrieked as he did. "WHO DARES ATTACK THE MIGHTY L'AIGLE—"

"L'Aigle? Is that your name?" Éponine asked, steadying her nerves. "Calm down a moment, we're not going to hurt you." _And whatever you are, you are certainly not an eagle._

"You're holding an arrow, aren't you?" the bird pointed out.

"It was in your arm," she countered. "I took it out."

"Then indebted to you is Bossuet the Blundering." The bird landed, and gave a bow.

"Didn't you call yourself L'Aigle?" Bahorel asked.

"Indeed I did. Bossuet is a rather unfortunate nickname that seems to have stuck, rather like my ill fortune."

"What are you, exactly?" Joly asked.

"Well, I was going for an eagle, but it seems I came out as a puffin. And I can't remember the spell to turn back."

"Spell?" Éponine's ears pricked up. "That would mean you're a wizard, wouldn't it?"

"And the unluckiest one ever on this earth," Bossuet agreed.

"Never mind that, could you undo another's spell?" Bahorel interjected impatiently.

"Bahorel!" Éponine scolded.

"If I were human, yes, I could undo a spell. Not a curse, though, curses are different."

"How do you know if it's a curse?" Joly inquired.

"Did the caster tell you a cure? Some feat to be accomplished, a happening to happen?"

"Yes," all three answered in unison.

"Then I fear I'm of no help to you. Rules of magic." Bossuet spread his wings glumly. "Now, may I know the names of my new friends."

"Joly and Bahorel, both of Toulon, and Princess Éponine of Montreuil," Bahorel indicated each in turn. Bossuet bowed as best a puffin could, flicking his feathers. As he did, sparks started shooting up from the ground.

Joly stared. "Wait, did you just use—"

"It's Montparnasse, he's coming!" Éponine panicked as the dark lakeside began to change into a sunlit Eden. "All of you, hide now!"

"But—" Bossuet opened his mouth to protest, but the other two pulled him into one of the bushes. Éponine crossed her arms and sat on one of the unchanged stones as Montparnasse approached. She looked at him in distaste.

"Red and gold? You dishonor colours that belong to a man better than you will ever be."

"If you would give the chance, I might be able to prove that wrong."

"Haven't you learned by this point? Every night, you ask me the same question, and every night, I give you the same answer."

"Éponine, don't—"

"I'll _die_ first."

Montparnasse scowled, and the illusion he'd conjured up shattered. "One of these days, I'm going to lose my temper, Éponine."

"I'll hold my breath until you do," she snapped. "But I'll never give you Montreuil."

"Never is rather a long time," he smirked. "And I suppose it's even longer for a little bird." Éponine looked up and saw the moon sinking down behind the ruined castle. "Until tomorrow, then." Éponine didn't answer him as she walked into the water, magic swirling around her and changing her back into that awful swan's form. She heard Bossuet call out her name, but she didn't respond to him. Instead, she lowered her head and swam further into the center of the lake. Her only comfort in being a swan was that no one could see her cry.


End file.
